


Prelude

by DayenuRose



Series: Snapshots or Dick/Babs Week 2018 [1]
Category: Batgirl (Comics), Batman (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Dick/Babs week 2018, F/M, Memories, Prelude, photo albums
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 12:57:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16933659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DayenuRose/pseuds/DayenuRose
Summary: Dick and Babs are finally unpacking the last of the boxes from the basement and come across a collection of photo albums.





	Prelude

“Babs, will you grab the door for me? Please.” Dick called from behind the stack of cardboard boxes he carried up from the basement. He balanced the three boxes in a teetering tower that blocked his view. If he wanted to see where he was going, he needed to peer around the side. For the most part, he simply trusted his feet to lead the way. “Hurry. I think I’m carrying about two tons of books.”

Barbara manoeuvred through the maze of boxes already stacked in the living room and caught the basement door with one of the front wheels of her wheelchair. “You probably are—carrying books, that is.”

“Thanks, you’re my hero.” He dropped the boxes with a resounding thud and kissed his wife before collapsing on the couch with a melodramatic sigh. “Seriously. Who needs so many books?”

Though he complained loudly, there was a teasing twinkle in his eyes. If Babs wanted a library, then she’d have a library no matter how many boxes he had to lug around. He’d built many of the bookshelves that filled their home and had gifted her with quite a few of the books that filled those same shelves. 

“I do.” The gleam in her eyes matched his with the level of mischievousness. She joined him in the living room and handed him a glass of lemonade. “How about we take a break from all the heavy lifting before I send you down to bring up the rest? We can start going through the boxes already up here, ”

He ran his fingers down her arm until they rested on her hand. Leaning in close, he pressed a kiss to her hand and winked at her. In a low tone that suggested that he had better ideas on how to fill their afternoon other than organising boxes, he whispered, “Remind me, why are we doing this now?” 

“Besides the fact that we’ve lived here for three years and we still have unpacked boxes...” She nudged a nearby box towards his feet. 

“Yeah, besides that.” He entwined his fingers between hers. 

With their hands still interconnected, she ran her hand over the baby bump that was just starting to show. “Because we want to turn the guest room into the nursery and the basement into the guest room.”

“And we need a guest room why?” He released her hand and grabbed the box from the floor, settling it on his knees. Babs’ name was written on the side of the box in her father’s handwriting. 

“Stop being obstinate.” She pulled herself onto the couch beside him and snuggled between her husband and the end of the couch. “We need a guest room because of you and your umpteen siblings.”

He grinned. It was true. Between his family and all of their out of town friends who spent the night on their way through Gotham, there rarely seemed to be a evening when someone wasn’t staying over. And he wouldn’t have it any other way. Neither would she. 

“All right, all right you convinced me.” He unfolded the top of the box that had half slid off his knees. The time-softened cardboard tore away in his hand. Making a face at the grey dust clinging to his fingers, he wiped his hands on his pants before starting to unpack the contents. 

“What are these?” he asked, pulling several three ring binders out of the box and stacking them on the couch. 

Picking a red one from the top of the stack, Dick examined the cover. Someone (probably Babs) had slipped a postcard of the Chicago skyline into the clear pocket on the front of the binder. Foam letters had been stuck to the cover spelling out ‘Chicago.’ The adhesive on the letters was starting to come undone. The tail on the ‘g’ had folded up on itself and the second ‘c’ had come off completely, leaving behind only a sticky ‘c’ residue. 

“Oh! I haven’t seen those in ages. I used to make photo albums every summer.” Babs snagged the album from Dick and began flipping through the pages and reliving the memories.

Dick studied the pictures over her shoulder. The pages were filled with a clutter of pictures and ticket stubs, maps and brochures. He didn’t know most of the people in the pictures, but by the number of red heads in the photos he could assume they were family. Every now and again he’d catch a glimpse of Babs and her dad. Though Babs was several years younger than when he had met her for the first time in Gotham, he still recognised her. Surely he would always recognise her. 

The speed at which Babs flipped through the pages slowed as she progressed through the album. “I almost forgot about this trip...”

As she slowed, Dick was able to study the pictures for longer. More familiar faces popped up in the pictures as Babs neared the end of the album. He hadn’t seen most of these people in years. There was Elinore the elephant when she was still a calf.... And there were Jacques and Soose together, like always.... Clown Alley was bustling with activity in preparation for another show.... And....

This didn’t make sense. This wasn’t an album of his life. Why were his friends here?

“Wait,” Dick placed his hand over the last photograph on the page. Behind trembling fingers he could still see the interior of the main tent. Though he sat beside his wife in their house, sipping lemonade and looking at her pictures of her memories, he could swear that the scent of sawdust and sweat filled the air. He closed his eyes and saw the dancing black specks caused by the blinding spotlights that turned the audience into faceless silhouettes. He heard the rippling gasps that circled the tent as he stood on the platform with trapeze in hand. As he began his routine, there was a collective holding of breath, which exploded into thunderous applause when he landed and took his final bows. 

“Dick? Are you okay?” Babs placed her hand over his and slowly moved both hands away from the photograph, revealing a family of trapeze artists high above the crowd.  

His breath caught in his chest and his heart raced at the memories. He squeezed her hand. “Babs, when did you go to Haly’s?”

 


End file.
